“One of those things would end with an unflattering picture in the tabloids, which I do try to avoid.” Emrys draped his arm around Caitlyn’s shoulders. “But maybe you could inform me better on where to find some decent jazz.”
Though Caitlyn was no expert—she’d only done the jazz crawl because it was featured as something to experience in the city she was traveling to—Melinda had mentioned a few places where she and Jaina tended to go on the weekends, so she pulled each up on her phone to see who would be playing, and located an address for Emrys to put into his GPS. It wasn’t a quick drive. Friday night in the city, traffic was madness.
But Emrys brought up that time that Caitlyn had practically impaled herself on one of the stone posts that lined the sidewalks in busy traffic areas of Paris. That led to the story about the man who had tried to grab Emrys’s messenger bag and failing that, had run away, calling him “bitch” over and over again. For what had been a barely two-month affair, their memories seemed endless. By the time they reached the club, Caitlyn felt her shoulders relaxing and her heart pounding.
The club was so dark that Caitlyn could barely see. Emrys took her arm to keep her from tripping. The band was already onstage, starting off with the blaring of a trumpet and a strong rhythmic beat beneath. The club was full, but Emrys turned to the host, and a table that had been roped off cleared quickly.
Over the sound of the music, they couldn’t talk much. Emrys ordered them some drinks, and Caitlyn pointed to items on the menu for the waiter. Emrys didn’t seem to be terribly impressed with the band, but Caitlyn bobbed her head along as the singers finally chimed in, and she smiled brightly when Emrys looked at her.
When they’d finished the number, Emrys leaned to her and said, “That looked suspiciously like dancing.”
“You know that it’s not because there was no falling.”
Emrys bumped her shoulder and held a fork of Louisiana crab cake for her to try. She’d seen him grimace at the food she’d ordered, but it was perfectly fried, perfectly Cajun. She liked it, even if he was feeling squeamish. It made her want to feed him something even more ruthlessly American.
Something about his face was ever so much more entertaining than the band, though she did enjoy the blend of sounds. He wasn’t appreciating it as much, and she could tell that he was really getting lost when the musicians syncopated the rhythm. The sax solo in particular caused his brows to screw together in bafflement, and the look caused Caitlyn to reached over and squeeze his knee, grinning wickedly.
“Should I have taken you to a hip hop club?”
“No.”
Emrys’s expression was stern, but he cracked a smile. Caitlyn smirked and held a buffalo shrimp to his lips.
“Didn’t we used to talk about wresting everything we could out of life? Try it.”
“Does wresting include heartburn and headaches?”
“Yes. It absolutely does.” Caitlyn pursed her lips. She sighed at his stiff posture and knocked back the rest of her drink. “I’ll be right back.”
Caitlyn slipped through the narrow spaces between the tables and headed into the back. She felt a bit lightheaded from the champagne and the cocktails and, in no small part, Emrys’s proximity. She had no idea if he was having a good time, but being near him now was no different than it had been then. She felt drawn to him. It was going to be next to impossible to say goodbye to him when it was finally time to go home. She probably wouldn’t see him for another five years, if ever again.
She was washing her hands in the women’s room when someone knocked on the door.
“Almost finished!” she called. The knock came again, and she shook her head with a bit of irritation. She spared a second to check her mascara and then went to open the door for the impatient person on the other side.
Emrys slipped in with her and locked the door behind him.
Chapter Four
Caitlyn’s eyes grew impossibly round as Emrys stepped into the small space, locked the door, and pulled her flush to his chest. Emrys felt so drawn to her that it was more natural to be pressed against her than not.
“Wh-what are you doing?” Her voice grew high and fragile.
“Seizing the day.” He moved his lips close to her ear. “Wresting what I can from life.”
He gave her full ass a squeeze, causing her to squeak in surprise, maybe indignation. Caitlyn looked up at him, her brows furrowed as her glasses slipped down her nose. He brushed his lips against her cheek, waiting and expecting her to put up a fight or tell him to let her go.
Instead, she grabbed his left ass cheek.
“There you are,” he murmured.